


a rock that bends to no wind

by Walutahanga



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, The New Legends of Monkey (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 09:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21408223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walutahanga/pseuds/Walutahanga
Summary: Five hundred years ago, Davari and his corrupt Blood slaughtered all the Queens.Or so Monkey thinks.
Relationships: Sūn Wùkōng | Monkey King/Táng Sānzàng | Tripitaka
Comments: 15
Kudos: 88





	a rock that bends to no wind

**Author's Note:**

> A fusion of cutest tv show I know with one of the grimmest book series I've ever read. I apologise in advance.

“Tripitaka?” Monkey sniffs the air of the cell, unable to see much of the figure on the bed.

Almost immediately he realises that he’s made a mistake; the psychic scent permeating the room isn’t that of a warlord. It isn’t even _male_.

“Sorry,” he says hurriedly, backing toward the exit. Mother Night, what must she be thinking with a strange male barging into her cell in the middle of the night. “I was looking for another prisoner. I thought there was only one room in this tower…”

“Monkey?” The woman sits up. “Is that you?” There’s something familiar about the voice, like a strain of music that you’ve heard somewhere before, but struggle to identify on an unfamiliar instrument. 

“I’m here.” Curious now, Monkey touches the talisman to deactivate the tangled web hiding him from view. She jumps a little when she sees him, face breaking into an oddly familiar smile and now he’s _certain_ he knows her.

Was she one of the Blood from the old days? No, she’s far too young for that. Even the long-lived races would age after five hundred years, if only subtly. This girl looks like she’s barely old enough to make her Offering. Nor is she someone he met since waking up; he’s sure he’d remember those big eyes and that lovely face with a scattering of light freckles across the nose…

Abruptly it strikes him who she looks like.

“Are you related to Tripitaka by any chance?” The monk had never said anything about a relative, but with Davari’s corruption rampant among the Blood, many families did not advertise the existence of their girl-children, even to close friends.

Hesitation flits across the girl’s expression; he reads guilt, sadness and resignation. For an awful moment, Monkey thinks she’s about to tell him the Monk is dead.

“Monkey,” she says softly. “I _am_ Tripitaka.”

The words are clear. Monkey knows what they mean. He just doesn’t understand them. Tripitaka was a _boy_. Monkey had seen him bathing a few times and there’d been no mistake. Yet, looking at this girl who watches him with Tripitaka’s eyes, it doesn’t _feel_ like a lie.

“They turned you into a girl?” Monkey says, trying catch up. “I mean – this is a tangled web, right? That Davari put on you for some reason?”

She shakes her head. “Always a girl.” She reaches for a pile of clothes at the end of the bed and holds out a string of prayer beads. “This is the tangled web that helped me pass for a boy. The Scholar gave it to me.”

Monkey runs his thumb over the prayer beads, trying to buy time to process all this. Now that he’s touching it, he can taste a hint of dark power; a very faint impression of fine interwoven threads, like the brush of a silk veil. If he weren’t actively seeking it, he might have missed it altogether.

“Where did the Scholar get this?” He asks, grasping for the first question he could think of.

“He made it.”

That fit with the faint hint of maleness on the beads. Which was rather a disturbing implication all on its own. The sheer skill level to create such a convincing illusion – fooling sight and touch, and tailoring it specifically to her form, rather than simply copying the appearance of someone else – spoke of Hourglass training.

Male scent plus Hourglass training meant that vanishingly rare phenomenon; a male Black Widow. Probably descended from the Sa Diablo line, unless another male has managed to convince the Hourglass to accept him.

“Monkey,” Tripitaka says, pulling out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“I need a minute.” Monkey drops the beads back on the bed. “Just to work it out in my head.”

In a way, it made sense. The Sa Diablos never saw a mess they could refrain from sticking their nose into. Every single shit-storm in the history of the Blood, you could bet one of that family was somehow involved, either making a bigger mess or pulling a save out of their ass. 

How and why they were involved now was the question. Monkey didn’t believe for a second that it was as simple as hiding a poor orphan girl. If that were the case, the Scholar would have sent her far away rather than on this farce of a quest. Males protect, females rule. That family knew it better than anyone. Which meant…

Monkey stoops over Tripitaka, ignoring her yelp of surprise as he shoves his face against her neck and breathes in. Immediately he gets his answer. And instantly realises he’d just made a very stupid mistake.

Tripitaka has tensed, not struggling but a sour edge of fear has entered her scent. That female fear, so close, is like dumping oil on a fire. His temper flares, instinctively wanted to seek out whatever is causing her terror, and rip it to pieces. 

Reign it in, he tells himself. Reign it in, you idiot. What’s scaring her is _you_.

He forces himself to uncurl his hands from her wrists and take a step back. Then another. Then he sinks to his knees so that he’s not looming over her, and once he’s there, it just feels right, to be the one looking up at her.

He should apologise, he knows. He’d just violated Protocol by touching her without permission, and he needs to promise never ever to do that again, but what comes out of his mouth is:

“You’re a Queen.”

Tripitaka winces. “Yes?”

Monkey doesn’t think he’s quite made his point. “_You’re a Queen_.”

“Yes? Sandy’s female, it’s not a big deal.”

“Sandy’s a Priestess.” Monkey clenches his hands on his thighs to stop himself reaching out again. “You’re a Queen.”

“You keep saying that.”

She doesn’t know, he realises. To her, Queen is just another caste. One nearly mythical after Davari’s purge of the Blood. She has no idea how important she is, how fundamental Queens are to a functioning Blood rather than the collapsing civilization it is.

Even he, a Warlord Prince who always resisted the call of Queens, who had little interest in being personally ruled, understood their importance.

A question occurs to him. “Why hasn’t Davari killed you?”

“He can’t. Not yet.” Tripitaka’s fingers curl in her lap, clenching the fabric of her nightgown between them. “The texts that he’s decoding – the spell he’s trying to cast – it needs a queen to trigger it.”

“And he killed all the other Queens,” Monkey says heavily. “I see.” There’s faint, bitter satisfaction in knowing that Davari screwed himself, but it passes quickly. “We have to get you out of here. Here, take my talisman. It will trigger a tangled web to hide you.”

“Monkey, no. I’m not leaving.”

“This isn’t up for discussion!” He presses the talisman into her hands. “You’re a Queen, Tripitaka. You might not understand what that means, but I do. Females rule, males protect.”

She doesn’t even hesitate before shaking her head. “No.”

“No?!”

“There are other un-corrupted Blood here. If I leave, Davari will kill them.”

“He’ll kill us all anyway, once he’s got the spell going. If you survive –”

“I won’t be able to do anything, because I’m still only an Opal Jewel. Right now, a Red Jeweled Warlord Prince is more useful than a witch who’s never been in a fight before. It’s basic strategy.”

“Tripitaka.” He presses on the edges of Protocol by tugging on the heavy fabric of her skirt. “_Listen_ to me. You are the heart of our people, our way of life. If he kills you, it’s all for nothing. The short-lived Blood won’t survive another generation without a Queen. The long-lived Blood might last a while, but they too will collapse into chaos. We_ need_ you to live.” He’s desperate by the end, nearly pleading.

“Monkey…” She says gently, touching his face, and it’s everything in him not to lean into the touch. “I’ve no intention of dying. I have my own ways of dealing with Davari.”

“Like what?” He asks dubiously.

She blows on her fingernails. For a second it’s her unadorned blunt fingernails, worn short by work, then shimmering into view are long graceful nails painted in black varnish.

“Black Widow too?” Monkey says, surprised at how un-surprised he is.

“Taught, not born. The Scholar wanted me to have all the defenses I possibly could. I was never more than adequate to the Hourglass teachings, but I find it’s the simplest tricks that work the best.”

Simple tricks, Monkey thinks. Like anchoring a tangled web inside another tangled web created by someone else was _simple_. He kisses her palm, enjoying the dangerous tickle of her nails beneath his chin.

“Tripitaka, trust me. Adequate doesn’t being to describe you.”

She blushes, and it’s very easy to see the boy from the road, who was careful and stubborn and turned red whenever Monkey took off his shirt. Monkey had enjoyed that. This Queen version might take a bit of getting used to, but he thinks he’ll enjoy her just as much.

Which is the moment he realises he’s going to be angling for the Consort ring.

Well, why not, he decides after thinking about it. She needs a first Circle, and he’d make a crap Steward and Master of the Guard would just be boring. And she’s pretty and smells good and they get along really well, and he’s never much liked the idea of kneeling, but he’s been going it for a few minutes now and has no particular urge to get up…

First things first.

Kill Davari. Rescue Blood. Become Consort.

Now he just has to figure out where Davari’s bedroom is in this place.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I quoted Queen Elizabeth. "Though the sex I belong to is considered weak, you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to now wind".


End file.
